


Motivation

by bixgirl1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Draco being a little shit, Established Relationship, Harry loving him anyway, M/M, Sort Of, Workout sex, just basically smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 03:43:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13449813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bixgirl1/pseuds/bixgirl1
Summary: "Stop distracting me, Draco.""Potter, I'm themotivation."In which Draco lying under Harry as he does push ups has the exact result you would expect.





	Motivation

**Author's Note:**

> For [Macremme](https://macremme.tumblr.com/), whose art makes me wild with happiness every time I see it. Based on two of my favorite pieces: Push-up kisses and the [aftermath](https://macremme.tumblr.com/post/168425609408/consider-this-as-my-peace-offering-for-being-away) to push up kisses. :D
> 
> All characters belong to JK Rowling and associated publishers.
> 
> Unbeta-ed, so please forgive any mistakes. <3

On his seventy-fifth push up — on their twenty-fifth kiss, because Draco (the rat bastard) only doled out one kiss per every three push ups — Harry finally asked the question Draco was so obviously _dying_ for him to ask:

“Motivation, huh?” He licked his lips. “For what?”

His cock had been good at hard for at least fifty push-ups now, brushing against the stiff length of Draco’s through his jogging shorts as he laid beneath Harry — pseudo-relaxed, lanky body stretched out under him, arms crooked under his head and grey eyes glinting up at him wickedly — every time he lowered down. Draco egged him on, his voice low and taunting in that way that always zinged straight to Harry’s prick. 

“Your Auror exams, of course,” Draco said smoothly, after a beat. Harry rolled his eyes, pausing on shaking arms only inches from his body to rotate his hips deliberately. The pale light in Draco’s eyes flared at the implicit challenge; his mouth quirked up in the sneer that Harry had learnt months ago meant something altogether different than the derision he’d assumed back in school. 

“Kisses?” Harry scoffed, pushing up again. His arms and legs were tired — his whole body was at this point, really, after running four miles this morning, and spending two hours in the duelling gym, in addition to his standard workout — but his prick apparently didn’t know, fattening even more with every barely-there brush of their bodies to press against his shorts. If someone didn’t know him, Draco would seem unaffected by it, but there was a bright red stamp of blush over the sharp angles of his cheeks, and for the last ten push ups, his hips had been rising the miniscule distance to meet Harry’s. It took just as much effort to interject a bland note into his voice as each push up did at this point, but Harry managed it. “You practically beg me to kiss you all the time; how is that motivating?”

Draco snorted. “I _beg_ you,” he echoed flatly.

“Well,” Harry said fairly, just a little breathless from exertion (and the thought), “I’m usually rimming you at the time.”

Pausing — and how someone could pause so deliberately when they were basically doing nothing, Harry would never know — Draco flicked him a look from under pale, tangled lashes. “What would motivate you further? I’m here to serve, you know.”

“A good Samaritan, that’s you,” Harry huffed, on push-up ninety-one.

Draco grinned. “It’s like you know me.”

“I want you,” Harry said, and Merlin _fuck_ , he might collapse soon, but at least he’d do it on top of Draco. 

There was that pause again, then a light, non-committal hum. “You can have me,” Draco said, voice low and promising. Then, because he seriously _was_ an absolute _rat fucking bastard_ added, “After one hundred and twenty-five.”

Harry gawked for a single moment, his arms straining, arse clenched; number ninety-nine was on the horizon and his body knew it, was already expecting the ease of tension in his muscles. Draco smiled, shifting his legs a little wider and canting his hips up, and Harry growled unthinkingly, finding the will, somewhere, to renew the force and speed he’d started with. 

Draco’s smug smile widened and he started counting off quietly, breath warm against Harry’s chin on one hundred ten, lips skimming Harry’s mouth on one hundred sixteen, teeth grazing Harry’s jaw on one hundred twenty-two. And then Harry fell atop him, one hundred, twenty-five push ups done in record time, his mouth seeking Draco’s hungrily, their cocks grinding together through their shorts. Draco’s hands came up to clutch at his quivering biceps, to massage them as Harry rutted against him frantically, mumbling into Draco’s mouth, “Off, take them off,” while reaching down to weakly shove at Draco’s joggers, plucking at the elastic of his waistband. 

“Well done,” Draco purred, rolling them over so he was astride Harry. 

“Are you talking to me, or yourself?” Harry asked, choking a laugh as he kicked off his shoes and scrambled to lift his hips when Draco pulled his shorts down.

“Me, of course. I helped.”

“I hate you,” Harry said, and _really_ , he did — he’d have to take two different muscle relaxation potions in the morning just to get out of bed, probably. Then again, Draco would likely have those potions at the ready, along with a kiss or three, so Harry’s hate was mingled with healthy doses of adoration and esteem and lust. It all worked out, in the end.

Somewhere inside himself found the strength to roll them back over, teeth nipping over Draco’s jaw and down the bend of his neck, Draco’s soft gasps and needy _harder’_ s urging him on. He got Draco’s shorts off, dragging them down Draco’s long, toned legs, then covered Draco’s body again, their cocks catching and sliding damply against one another with each slow stroke of his hips.

“Next time I’ll count off your push ups this way,” Draco muttered. Harry snorted, dipping his head to bite at Draco’s throat, appreciating the way Draco’s body tightened, the way his hips flew up to meet Harry’s at the bit of pleasure-pain. His voice shook as he continued, “What was I thinking?”

“I never claim to know.” Harry groaned, his cock jerking against Draco’s as the press of them dragged his foreskin back, smearing their stomachs with precome. “Turn over.”

And, oh, _fuck_ it felt good when Draco kissed him eagerly again, panting well and good now, his hands slipping down the sweat on Harry’s back to squeeze his arse once before he obeyed. His shoulder bumped into Harry’s collarbone as he rolled, the angular jut of his hip pressing Harry’s erection flat against his belly for a second. And then he was on his stomach, on his knees, pushing up against Harry and saying _yes,_ and _now_ , and _please_ , and _Harry_ , words all broken and breathless with want, and Harry could have died with how much he loved him — all of Draco’s sharp edges scuffed into something soft and open for him when they were like this together, all of his defences dropped away to allow Harry inside.

Harry grappled for his wand, but Draco got there first, tilting a glance over the rippling muscles of his shoulder to smile at him as he murmured the lubrication charm, slickening Harry’s prick and, when Harry pressed two searching fingers into the crevice of his arse, Draco’s twitching hole as well. He was soft there, the muscles of his rim still loose and puffy from their lovemaking that morning, and he moaned when Harry pushed two fingers into him, more out of a desire to hear Draco’s delicious noises than out of necessity. 

“Stop — _Ah! Fuck!_ — it, you know I don’t need—” he said, even as he pushed back into the feel of Harry’s searching fingers and dipped the small of his back to aid Harry’s efforts.

“You like it, though,” Harry said, no bothering to stifle a warm laugh. He let his fingertips brush teasingly over Draco’s prostate, tiny little nudges that had Draco squirming, but he was already too close and so was Harry; he pulled his fingers out of Draco and pressed him against the carpet, bracketing Draco’s thighs with his own as he plied Draco open with one hand and aimed his prick to rub it against Draco’s rim and push. And Harry knew he’d never get accustomed to those first moments each time, sinking into the heat of Draco’s body, the way Draco’s inner muscles tightened around him in resistance before turning soft and sweet and clinging, much like Draco in every way. Draco let loose a low sound of entreaty, pushing up off the rug and wiggling his hips, forcing Harry to bottom out in him with one stroke. 

“Fuck,” Harry muttered. The air around them smelled like sex and sweat, like the sharp spice of Draco’s cologne, and Harry’s balls tingled, the base of his spine prickling with impending release already. “Wait, wait.”

“No,” Draco said, bouncing back against him again with what little leverage he had, then lowering down to grind his prick against the carpet. “If you don’t make me come, I’ll do it without you.”

It was such a Draco thing to say that Harry found himself grinning even as a soft snarl broke free from his throat, even as his hand fisted in all of Draco’s fine, white-blond hair. He jerked Draco’s head up and twisted it, kissing him hard as he started to thrust, cock aching with need. Draco’s buttocks flexed against his hips; he moaned and planted both hands on the carpet, arching his back to better reach Harry’s kiss, their tongues slipping together like their bodies were. Harry rolled his hips harder, barely doing more than grinding into him, but he could tell by Draco’s convulsing, shuddering breaths that the head of his prick was pressing against Draco’s prostate without relief. Draco’s mouth was hot and wet against his, his spine bowed, his legs trapped tight together by Harry’s knees. His body stiffened like that, arsehole spasming tight as he started to come, body shaking as badly as Harry’s was, skin as feverish as that time he’d fallen ill for three days, worrying Harry out of his mind. 

Then Draco wrenched his mouth back a fraction and murmured, “Please, Harry. _Please_ ,” his voice cracked and soft, grey eyes hazy with love and desire, and the tension in Harry’s groin unravelled fast. He spilled into Draco with a low cry, eyes shutting as the pleasure swamped them, his prick sliding through the slick of his own come with each stuttering thrust. He wound his free arm around Draco’s ribs, one hand gripping his hip tight enough to leave fingerprint bruises in the morning — little marks that Draco would taunt him with for days to come, refusing to Heal them with a charm just so he could drive Harry mad with lust again and again. Harry held himself deep as sensation spiked higher and higher through him before finally starting to ebb, Draco’s hair still soft in his hand, his kiss now softer on Harry’s mouth. Slowly, they relaxed together, joined bodies coming down to rest heavily against the carpet.

“You are,” Harry said breathlessly after a minute, when he was reasonably certain his lungs weren’t about to shrivel up and disappear, “very good at motivating me.”

Because, really, he had to give credit where it was due.

Draco chuckled. His cheek was pressed flat to the floor, his arms splayed wide. “I do what I can.”

“Do you want to motivate me in a bed in a few minutes?” Harry asked, after a pause. He nipped at Draco’s shoulder. “The floor is hell on my knees.”

“Harry.” The corner of Draco’s mouth drew down, twitching; he rolled his eyes to the side in a modified glare that made Harry want to laugh. “I’m fucking tired.”

“You’re an arsehole,” Harry said, equal parts amused and outraged.

“Oh, relax,” Draco muttered. The twitch at the corner of his lips grew more pronounced. “You can shag me again,” he offered, as though it was a huge gift he was bestowing. (And Harry would never admit to it, but really, it always felt that way.) “I may fall asleep — I worked really hard today — but you go right ahead.”

“Then I guess it’s my turn,” Harry said, glaring at him — though every piece of his heart wanted to smile.

“For what?”

“To motivate _you,_ ” Harry said.

Draco lifted his head, turning to look at him. And grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are lovely. Also, I'm on [tumblr](https://bixgirl1.tumblr.com/) now, too! *waves*

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Fanart] Motivation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16255487) by [keyflight790](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyflight790/pseuds/keyflight790)




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